Crossfire
by Lapis Love
Summary: New city, new life, new friends, new set of complications. Bonnie Bennett now calls Vancouver home and as much as she would like to stay she's being pursued by someone she knows she shouldn't want but can't help herself wanting. All the signs point to a bad ending but there's something about Christian Grey that makes her want to throw caution to the wind. Chronnie. AH/AU.


**A/N: Hello dolls. So you're probably wondering why I'm starting a new Chronnie story when I haven't even updated the other one I started. Good question. Well, see here's the thing. I didn't like the story line I came up with and simply wanted to start anew. Plus, I had no idea where I wanted to take Safeword but in this one I do. Safeword will be receiving the axe very shortly, but this one I promise I will do my best to see it from start to finish. May take a while, may take no time at all. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters (except Ana, Christian, and Kira) are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. All OC's belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p><em><strong>Now…<strong>_

"My place…it's not far from here," Christian's pupils were dilated to the max, his voice in my ear like a wet dream symphony.

I wanted to, it was plainly evident he wanted to, everyone in the club wanted to! That was one if not _the_ main reason people flocked to establishments like this. To find someone to hook up with tonight or in the immediate future. It would be so easy, damn near elementary to nod in consent, get missing, go home with Christian and let nature take over.

That thought alone made me staple my thighs together. I couldn't have been more grateful Christian wasn't part wolf or he would have been able to smell my arousal. Trapped together as we were in this narrow hallway, he probably could regardless.

The two halves of me were split clean down the middle. One that wanted to take Christian up on his offer—swift and in a hurry; and the other that screamed flag on the play because you're trying to reach a wholly different end zone. The two went back and forth litigating that I had a duty to uphold, and going home with him would be a huge violation of Girl Code.

Carpe Diem, everybody wants to rule the world, mama said there'll be days like this…what was a fast girl to do?

But I knew all along. The answer resided in my heart, not in my loins. I needed to go home. Alone.

Placing my hand over Christian's rapidly fluttering heart, my smile was apologetic. "Under different circumstances, I'd take you up on your offer, but I need to go."

"Bonnie…" he caught me around the wrist preventing me from taking another step.

When he pulled away to make eye contact, I did my best not to let his sharp gaze affect me. This man had always made me uneasy—good looks aside there was something about him that spelled a woman's ultimate destruction. I had seen it happen, had been a witness to what getting involved with him could cost someone not secure enough in themselves to handle. Car wreck. Train wreck, natural disaster all rolled together in a Prada suit.

I sure as hell didn't want to be his latest victim, another notch on an impressive bed post. But when you found yourself fighting against a monsoon with a broken umbrella what could you really do to win?

Shaking my head and tugging my wrist free, I tried to put more space between us. But the people walking to and fro down the corridor were determined to make sure we stayed glued to one another in some form or fashion.

The scent of his cologne flew up my nostrils and made my already overactive saliva glands gush to shameful levels. Really it had nothing on the activity occurring below my navel, and that particular throb I ignored with everything in my arsenal.

Being stuck here in this darkened club made me feel exposed in ways that were highly distressful. However, the seduction of being caught sang in my bloodstream and I was high as a kite. This man, this Christian Grey was pushing me—no _shoving _me out of my comfort zone without mercy. He had no business trying to pursue anything with me, but since he was a character who played by his own societal rules, was accustomed to a certain level of privilege, nothing was off limits to him.

Except me.

"You think about me just as much as I think about you," he proclaimed, a definite edge to his baritone voice.

My head shifted from left to right although I couldn't explicitly feel the movement. I just knew it was happening because of my hair smacking my cheeks. I closed my eyes, shut off visual contact with him because I needed some kind of buffer and a reality check. _This isn't happening_, I shouted at my hormones that were on bended knee, hands clasped pleading with me to reconsider.

An involuntarily hiss escaped between my teeth the second Christian's warm hand slid up my arm, ghosted over my neck, traced the shell of my ear. Ripples of acute fire sprang across my nerve endings making them light up one after another writhing for its next fix. His fingers got missing into my hair, massaged my scalp. I groaned.

I loved being touched. I considered myself a sensualist. Strong, decadently sweet smells could make my eyes roll into the back of my head. A well-placed touch and I was virtually putty in a potter's hands.

"See," he whispered hotly in my ear. "You react to me because you _want _me. Burn for my touch. I just want to touch you, Bonnie. Touch you in places that haven't been reached before."

Got. Damn.

My breath hitched as soon as Christian aligned our bodies and I could feel his defined muscles through his jeans and button down shirt. Yet there was one particular muscle in its fully erect position that caused me to gulp. _Hard._ I bit down into my lip. My eyes were still closed mind you, and just allowed him to slowly grind against me.

Even with my sky high heels on I was still a shrimp compared to Christian, but he bent his knees, held me just right that whenever he moved up, his hardened cock brushed my moistening crotch.

Now it was time for my fingers to do some burrowing of their own. They grabbed at the tight fabric of his shirt and sank bluntly into his shoulders.

"Come home with me, baby," Christian dropped a chaste kiss on the corner of my jaw. "Please."

Who knows how long ago it was he had to work so hard for a yes. Well, as good as he felt, and he felt fucking good, I just couldn't do it. Couldn't do it on principle.

Inhaling sharply, I forced myself away from Christian and put at least six inches of space between us.

His cheeks were flushed, his lips were cherry red and swollen. Funny, but that usually only happened after kissing. Our lips hadn't exactly exchanged any form of handshake if you know what I mean.

"This can't happen between us, Christian."

His look of rapture turned to fury. "Why?"

Pressing my lips together, I tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear. "Do I even need to say it? You might like me and want to see me naked but you _know _you still love her."

That certainly sent his horses out to pasture. One second Christian was prepared to contest my inane reasoning for putting the brakes on our pending fornication, and now he was resolute to the harsh truth.

I made a pact with myself way back in high school that I wouldn't be the girl to settle for scraps of a guy's attention while he waited in the wings for the one he wanted to be with. Either you were down for me a hundred percent or you weren't. There were no gray areas with me especially when it's my heart that stood to lose the most.

Christian pinched the bridge of his nose and stared at his shoes. He had nothing to say, no great comeback despite the small part of me that really hoped he might deny my accusation.

Nodding to myself I turned to walk away and ran smack dab into trouble.

There stood his ex and my former roommate. Could a harmless night of fun turn into pain? Yes it could.

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><p><em><strong>Then…three months ago…<strong>_

Something jagged was digging into my shoulder but I hardly felt it. The sting was tolerable only because it was countered by deep thrusts into my heated core. My entire body was wrapped around a lovely male specimen that held me prisoner against my bedroom wall.

Trent Ward was showing me how he lived up to his promises.

Sweat glistened on both of our skins and added another delicious sensation I couldn't get enough of. Blunt teeth scraped along the contour of my neck as heat radiated everywhere at once. Although I couldn't see steam physically rising due to the friction of our humping, I could taste it, smell it. A heady perfume it would take a couple of hours of leaving the windows open to air out the place. I didn't mind it though.

Trent held my splayed thighs open as he plunged into what he claimed was his favorite place on earth. I ran my fingers through the short, blond hairs on the nape of his neck before moving my head, aiming for his lips.

Our mouths connected in a hungry, sloppy kiss with way too much tongue but I didn't really care. The only finesse I needed was the symmetry of our bodies moving as one reaching for a zenith that always felt out of reach. Until Trent started tapping a particular spot.

My eyes crossed.

A noise startled me for a second because it wasn't coming from me and sure as hell wasn't coming from Trent who was in the zone, so to speak.

"Do you feel this dick, baby?"

"Ah…yeah…" I muttered distractedly still trying to listen to that sound I heard earlier and one I was unfortunately too familiar with.

"Mmm….god your pussy is so good," Trent moaned.

"Ah…thanks…" I heard the sound again, louder this time.

The noise was trailing across the apartment via the ventilation system, which meant that my escapade with Trent was probably being broadcast as well. Part of me felt a little shameful about that; however, when things got started between Mr. Ward and me we had had the place to ourselves.

One of my roommates must have stumbled her way home. Judging by the heart-wrenchingly dreadful sound of her sobs, the culprit was Anastasia Steele.

At least every other week it seemed she was coming home in tears after being so gung-ho and excited to go out with her boyfriend, a guy I've only seen in passing once or twice. He didn't like to visit our apartment too much because it wasn't on the glamorous side of Vancouver. Snobby prick.

Anyways, from what I had been able to gather, Ana—which she preferred to be called, and her boyfriend, jeeze what was his name? they had a very tumultuous courtship and relationship. Ana was the timid and shy type and I never really saw her being in a relationship with anyone with a pulse as she preferred to read and watch Downton Abby. She and I had been roommates for the better part of the year but we're not what you would call close.

In fact, I could probably place all the five-sentence conversations we've had with one another on one hand since she moved in seven months ago. Sad. Nevertheless, she paid her rent on time, didn't bring strangers into the house, never played her music annoyingly loud, and kept her end of the apartment tidy. That was all I really required from her.

Two other women called this four bedroom dwelling home as well. Kira Yukimura who was always running wild with her friends, and Rose Dormer a transplant from London who sometimes took Ana under her wing and forced her out of the house.

Trent hitched me a bit higher since I had started slipping and began to mentally focus on other things besides the way he strummed my body.

Zoning back into the moment, I kissed Trent again and he really put his back into it.

Tingling fired up in my toes and ascended to my legs, womb, my hard-as-brick nipples, my throat, reaching the top of my cranium.

Trent alleged, "Shit, baby I'm bout to bust!"

Me too, I wanted to wheeze but talking took much more concentration than I had at the moment.

The slapping of our skins drowned out the noise of early morning traffic and definitely dampened Ana's lament.

My mouth dropped open, I couldn't collect a single drop of oxygen, and my entire neuromuscular system went on hiatus and completely shut down.

"Urrgggg," Trent grunted as he pumped hard into me once, waited half a beat before slamming his hips into the apex of my things again, and did so a final time before shuddering. His jizz filling up the latex condom.

Coarse language floating from his mouth as I stifled my scream as best I could, but my high-pitched wail wouldn't be contained. I was positive dogs from blocks away probably heard me.

Shaking, shivering and extending my leg in some form of relief, I rode the wave of my orgasm to its all too brief end. My skin was cold and hot in equal measure, and I couldn't seem to stop jerking.

Trent pulled my head back gently by my hair and smothered his rosebud mouth over mine.

"Damn that was hot," slowly he extracted his softening length out of me and placed me back on my feet. "You okay?"

I could only hold up the thumb's sign.

The burn in my thighs was instantaneous and my legs wobbled uncontrollably for a second. Trent smiled, obviously pleased with himself as he removed the condom, tied it off, and headed stark naked to the bathroom to properly dispose of it.

I made it to my bed where I curled up on my pillow top queen sized mattress. Not long I heard the shower running and Trent singing Metallica of all things. I chortled and reached for my blanket and proceeded to wrap myself up like a burrito. He would be leaving soon to head back to his place to get ready for work. Judging by the pale blue light filtering into the room it was nearing five a.m. Four orgasms before six in the morning had to be a new record for us.

Trent and I…we weren't dating. We were friends with benefits for the most part. Despite his outward package he was a very cool guy, and I enjoyed every second we spent together.

Was I overwhelmed by a sense of crushing loneliness and guilt by having such a causal relationship? Not exactly. We met right after I ended a three-year relationship with my high school sweetheart who finally stopped lying to me, to his parents, to himself about his true orientation. Jeremy and I were still close but he had to do what made him happy.

Trent was…a different walk in the park for me. He looked like a stereotypical bad boy but he wasn't. Well, not anymore. Full sleeve tattoos on both arms, piercings—nipple and tongue included. Most people did double takes when they saw us together. Wholesome, sexy me and rugged skater boy him. We worked.

The door to my in-suite bathroom flew open and Trent stepped out, towel draped low on his hips showing off his impressive washboard stomach. His blond hair stuck up in twenty different directions but it did nothing to suppress that dimple in his cheek and glittering viridian eyes. Some days he reminded me of a younger Josh Holloway, other days he was just Trent Ward.

He reached for his watch and slapped it on. "You have plans for lunch?" he asked.

"No. Why? You want to grab something?"

Trent shrugged. "Sure," and whipped off his towel giving me an unobstructed view of his curved dick.

My eyebrows climbed their way up my forehead and I figured it was time to get freshened up myself, start the coffee before I pounced on him again.

I attempted to side-step Trent who caught me around the waist and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "I'll call you."

"Okay," I said, gave him a goodbye kiss without any tongue and headed off to the bathroom.

Once alone I tried not to get my hopes up. As good as Trent was at sex he failed in other areas. Closed off, guarded, super secretive about what he got into when he's not working, Trent often made plans with me only for them to fall through at the last minute. Sometimes it was work related, but plenty of other times I was convinced that Trent simply got too caught up with his friends.

Studying my 'just fucked' reflection, I worried my bottom lip questioning myself for the hundredth time why wasn't I demanding more from Trent? I said I wouldn't be the type to settle and yet here I was doing a rendition of settling.

Shaking those thoughts loose, I went about my morning routine making myself presentable for a world that was corrupt and problematic and could care less about my relationship woes.

Trent was gone by the time I exited the shower but he left his signature calling card behind on my pillow: a Hershey's Kiss. Smiling a little, I padded over to my bed, picked up the tiny treat, inhaled its innocent sweetness before adding it to my jar of kisses.

Throwing on my robe, I left the relative safety of my bedroom and halted a bit when I spotted Ana hovering over the tea pot. She furiously wiped her eyes and flashed a smile that was as believable as a two dollar bill.

"Morning," she croaked.

"Good morning," I walked the rest of the way to the kitchen and started foraging for my favorite coffee mug. "You feeling all right, Ana?"

She vigorously nodded and smiled brokenly once more. "I'm sorry," she blubbered. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry over him anymore and yet here I am. Do you know when Rose will be back?"

I faced my roommate. "No, probably not until the end of next week. If you want to talk…I'm here."

"I don't want to bother you, Bonnie."

"It's no bother. We all need to man bash to each other every once and a while. It's very cathartic," I winked.

Ana snorted and blew her nose. I did what I could not to be grossed out by that. Blowing your nose in the kitchen—unsanitary. Thankfully she washed and dried her hands afterwards.

"It's stupid really," she downplayed the rift in her relationship in her typical fashion as she removed the screaming tea kittle from the ire and shut off the stove. "Tea?"

"Sure."

Ana grabbed the Earl Gray and dumped a bag in my mug and filled it with steaming hot water before treating herself. We didn't speak again until our tea was prepared to our exact specifications.

Ana breathed deeply. "The thing is…he always says he's going to change because he doesn't want to lose me, but then he falls back into old habits. I don't want to be one of those women who feel she can change or alter a man's behavior but…"

A brisk knock pounded on the door, interrupting her spiel.

"That's probably Kira," I said, "She's always forgetting her keys."

As I moved around the breakfast bar to open the door, I caught sight of Ana's petrified expression and slowed my steps.

"I know that knock and it's not Kira. It's him," she whispered and blanched until she was white as a ghost.

Just as I was about to question her surety of this, I heard a male voice bellow. "Ana! I know you're home! You better be fucking home!"

What? Just who in the hell was this girl involved with to make a demand like that?

The feminist in me rose up and I proceeded to march to the door only for Ana to chase after me and grab me by the wrist. She pulled me backwards with surprising strength.

The fear but also hope and beseeching in her blue eyes was palpable. "I don't want to talk to him."

"Then let me send him on his happy way," I tugged my arm free leaving Ana in the perpetual dust.

I didn't bother to check the peephole as I unlocked and threw the door open. _"What?"_ I yelled tossing all 5'4" of my attitude into it.

Grey eyes blinked at me and it took a moment for me to realize just what on God's green Earth I was staring at.

Great. Ceaser's. Ghost!

To be continued…

**A/N: And there you have it folks. Let me know you think. Thanks so much for reading! **


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